Chapter 10
Kitty subsided into her cloak in the corner. She cowered as she might be expected to do, and permitted time to pass. Glimpses of clouds illumined by the moon became more frequent as it made its inexorable passage westward. How long they had been driving, Kitty could not guess; her fear made time run strangely. It had been long enough for the squabs to feel less soft, and for her to feel tired from the ordeal of sitting still. She did not dare to doze. Presently, she was so fatigued by the journey, she could not suppress a sigh.
“Becoming resigned? Good. I shall be pulling off the main road in an hour or so to find an inn for the night; and if you are good, I’ll leave you alone as you are on your courses.”
Kitty fidgeted, her face assuming a look of alarm and discomfort.
“I won’t last an hour; I need to relieve myself,” said Kitty.
“If you think I’m going to pull into an inn on the Great North Road to let you use the necessary house, and maybe give me the slip in the dark, you can think again,” said Haselbraid.
“I… I really need to go… can’t you pull off the road, and exit to let me use the utensil? If you are by the door, I can hardly run away,” said Kitty. “And you can empty it then and we can go on.”
“Not I; but Griggs can do it,” said Haselbraid. He opened the communications hatch to the coachman. “Griggs! Pull of the road when it is convenient; and be ready to relieve Miss of a piss pot to empty,” he said.
Kitty could hardly believe her idea was working! And if Griggs was to be off the box, that was even better.
“You are coarse in discussing my needs with a servant!” she said.
“Don’t be hoity-toity. We all piss, after all.”
“Are you sure you were born a gentleman, and are not a stablehand who has stolen his master’s coach?” asked Kitty, unable to curb her unruly tongue. He raised his hand. “Hit me, and I’ll probably lose my bladder contents into your squabs,” she said. He lowered his hand.
“If you ever did such a thing on purpose, I would whip you until your backside bled more than your commodity,” he said.
“My what?” asked Kitty.
“Your hole,” said Haselbraid, coarsely.
“You are a horrid man.”
“Yes, I am, when I want to be. I can also be generous if you are compliant.”
“That’s a good definition of a bully,” muttered Kitty. “Will it be long?”
“He’ll find somewhere.”
She fidgeted until the carriage pulled over, and stopped. There was a knock at the communications hatch, and Haselbraid opened it.
“We’m in a passing place, my lord; room for you to step out on the near side,” said Griggs.
“And you step down and make sure she don’t slip out of the offside,” said Haselbraid.
He exited the coach which bobbed as the coachman climbed down.
Kitty decided to relieve herself anyway; it gave the coachman something to occupy his hands, and it meant she would be comfortable for longer. Getting through her male garb was slow, but then, so it would if she was on her courses and well padded. She succeeded, returned everything mostly to how it should be, and then quietly searched the coach door pockets for coach pistols.
He had not thought to remove them! Good, that left her muff pistol in reserve and one coach pistol. She poked a hairpin down the barrel of each; they appeared to be loaded. Even better. Unless the powder was damp; but she must take that chance. The coachman would probably have the oversight of all the firearms in the carriage, as it would be his life on the line if there were footpads or highwaymen. The carriage was well-maintained, the brasswork had shone in the meagre light of the street lanterns, and the springs seemed well-oiled and smooth, so it was a fair assumption that other duties would not be neglected. One pistol could go in her pocket.
There was a peremptory knock on the door.
“Aren’t you finished, yet?” called Haselbraid.
“I have to get everything back in place!” called Kitty. She breathed in, and opened the window on the offside. “If you will take this, please… Griggs, wasn’t it?” she passed the utensil through the window, which made sure Griggs had to balance it at an awkward angle. When he had it and was juggling with it, she crossed the coach in one pace, thumbed off the safety of one of the coach pistols, opened the other door, and fired at the silhouette against the moon that was Haselbraid. There was a pause between the spark and the roar of the firing, but Haselbraid was too taken aback to do anything but stare. Then the pistol roared, throwing Kitty’s arm up at the unexpectedly large kick the weapon gave to someone used to firing a light pistol. Her arm was thrown upwards quite painfully, and Haselbraid fell back with a cry. Kitty did not wait to see whether she had hurt him badly, killed him, or merely shocked him with her actions, she leaped out of the door, banging the door shut, and scrambled agilely up into the vacant driver’s seat, grabbing the reins, taking the whip from the whip socket to flourish it and crack over the horses’ heads to startle them into motion.
The horses neighed in surprise, and jumped forward, uncertain about this strange touch on the rein, and the peremptory start of the whip. They set off all at their own pace, and it was fortunate that Kitty was a good driver, with this uneven start. Soon, however, she had them under control, and running smoothly, determined to put as much distance between her and Haselbraid as possible. The moon was high in the sky, and if not full, it was close to it, and Kitty had no qualms at going fast. She found herself approaching a sleeping village, the ivy-covered church tower doubtless a picturesque thing in daylight, but Kitty shuddered at its night-time appearance, which reminded her of a gothic castle from a gothic novel.
However, she pulled the equipage to a stop at the village green, and was able to read that she was in a village called ‘South Mims.’
Having found the name amusing, Kitty had a vague recollection that there was also a North Mims, not far from Hatfield.
In Hatfield, she might find some coach going to London, in the morning, anyway. She drove the carriage through the village, turned off into a field, and fetched the lantern from its hook at the front of the carriage. She went to investigate the boot, and discovered a pair of valises packed by Haselbraid. She brought them into the carriage to investigate their contents in the light of the lantern, where it flickered its fitful and sickly flame.
One held female apparel, which was, at least, respectable and tasteful to the cursory glance she gave it. The other contained male clothing and shaving equipment. Having shaving equipment might not be a bad idea as a decoy, laid out for maids to see in an inn. Kitty unpacked the gowns, packing two morning gowns, the shaving kit, two extra shirts, two pairs of male drawers, and a pair of pantaloons, which were knit stockinet, and would be forgiving as to size. She spread all the clothes around in the hopes that some locals might help themselves, and confuse what she had taken. Her round gown went in as well. Then, she assumed the cloth boy’s hat, put back the jacket, putting the shawl in the valise, and unharnessed the horses. They were content to rest for the time being, so she left the horses cropping whatever was growing in the field, and set off by foot to walk the two or three miles or so into Hatfield. Kitty was a fit young girl, and strode out with ease in male attire, not having to worry about mud soiling a gown. The bright moonlight meant that she had no worries about tripping in a rut or pot-hole and twisting her ankle, and it was rather pleasant strolling along the moonlit road, it being fortuitous that going north meant that she was not on the shadowed side, since road courtesy meant that pedestrians were to walk on the right hand side of the road, facing oncoming traffic. The scent of honeysuckle, or woodbine, to country folk, mingled with wild rose, all rambling through the hedgerows. There were some early blackberries, and Kitty helped herself to some, which kept her mouth moist as well as helping her pangs of hunger. She came upon a field of cows, and was glad to find a birch tree in the hedgerow, from which she stripped a square to fold into a cup, and slipped over the stile to strip some milk from a very surprised cow.
She drank it with relish, and then filled the cup with more blackberries as she went on. As a consequence, it took her a little over half an hour to reach Hatfield, whose streets appeared deserted.
There seemed to be two major inns in the main street, ‘The Salisbury Arms’ and ‘The Eight Bells.’ Kitty had no intention of trying to enter either as a lone traveller in the middle of the night, nor any other of the doubtless many coaching inns. She did not know Hatfield at all, and though it might be safer to seek for a smaller inn, she decided she would have to just remain unremarkable in a big, bustling busy one – at a time when it was bustling and busy. She managed to slide into the coaching yard of the ‘Salisbury Arms’ without being noticed, and slipped into the stables. The stable hand on duty was dozing on a chair, and Kitty slid up the ladder into the hay loft.
Here she consumed the rest of her blackberries and permitted herself to doze. It would be some time before the blackberries made their way to a point that they became uncomfortable, and Kitty had every intention of meeting that situation when it arose, having, in common with many rudely healthy young people, a digestion that a goat might envy.
Back in London, Mr. and Mrs. Worthington were unravelling a garbled tale from a footman, Elvira Bottringham, and Stephen, who was trying to think of the best thing to do.
“Miss Bottringham, I think that my son should drive you home, and let your brother know about this; Stephen, will you go after Kitty?” asked Mr. Worthington. “I think you will travel faster without me, though I can follow, driven by a driver in the coach.”
“I’ll ask Bottringham if he’ll go with me,” said Stephen. “Kitty may be no relation of his, but I’m sure he’d bear me company.”
“If he would, I would feel easier in my mind,” said his father. “Oh, dear, I am sure Kitty had the best of intentions, but the idea that a man who is prepared to abduct an heiress would tamely put out an imposter to make her way home is naïve in the extreme. I fear for her safety.”
“Should I not go, to chaperone Kitty?” said Elvira.
“I expect your brother will expect you to stay with Sophie, and fill her in on what is happening,” said Mrs. Worthington. “I can go with Stephen….”
“With due respect, Mama, I can travel faster without you, which is why Papa has not suggested coming; and with his cataracts it is out of the question that he should borrow a curricle and drive, however dashing a driver he was in his youth.”
“I hate having to leave it to you, son, but I am not the man I was,” sighed Mr. Worthington. “However, I know you have an instinct where your twin is concerned, and I am sure you will manage to save her.”
“I will, then, go with Elvira, to be a support to her and to Sophie, if Mr. Bottringham will go with you,” said Mrs. Worthington. “But I will have a footman walk with me when the other young people have left.
“I’ll put up some sandwiches for Miss Bottringham and for myself to eat on the way,” said Stephen. “You must see them into supper after dancing, and then wait to see them off. “Turvey can stay up to accompany you, since he should never have carried the note to anyone but you, and he can atone thereby.”
“Yes, quite so,” said Mrs. Worthington.
Hugo was checking if it was almost time to pick up Elvira, when there was a knock at the door. His butler announced, “Mr. Worthington and Miss Elvira.”
“Elvira? Stephen? Is something wrong to be back so soon?” asked Hugo.
“Oh, Hugo! Kitty’s let someone abduct her in my place,” said Elvira.
No comments:
Post a Comment